Pretty Little Liar
by The Untouchable Young
Summary: "Never Trust a Pretty Girl  All They Know How To Do Is Lie."  Based off of TheWritingMonster's "Never Trust A Pretty Girl".


She smiled, threw her head back, and laughed.

Fake.

It all was.

_She_ was.

How?

Simple. Nevertheless, you would need to go back a bit further into her past to _truly_ understand.

It started back then in the day.

Kindergarten.

She walked in with her little pink dress, all fluffed and sparkled up. Two little pink bows in her soft blonde hair that was braided in two. Her two front teeth were missing but that didn't stop her from showing off her other pearly whites. Her bright blue eyes sparkled.

She was ready. To take the world over by storm.

Well as much as a little girl can in a small room.

However, something wasn't right.

No one wanted her.

Now I suppose that sounds selfish. And in a way it is. But no one wanted her there. It was as if she had some nasty disease and no one wanted to catch it.

She was a plague.

In other words, she had _cooties_.

Yes cooties.

Little boys started making fun of her, pulling on her braids, throwing blocks at her, spreading nasty lies about her. And the girls refused to play with her.

Which was odd. Mommy said lying was bad.

But that doesn't stop anybody does it?

No one wanted to play with her during recess, or sit with her during lunch.

Naptime was good though. No one made fun of her.

And she could cry in peace. No one had to make fun of her, yell at her, or ask what's wrong.

She could just be.

Silence was golden.

And that's how she liked it.

As silent droplets poured down on her face, she realized something.

She hated people. She preferred to be alone.

And that's how it started.

As the years passed by, all in a whirlwind.

She was pointed at, laughed at, and made fun of.

All for being herself.

But she didn't mind.

She liked it.

No one judged her.

At least _not to her face_, they all made fun of her from a _distance._

Cowards, she thought. But that's all right.

Cause in some way everyone was.

And so was she.

But she was okay with that.

So that's how it was for a while.

All alone, and she preferred it that way.

Until one day.

It was the last day of seventh grade, and she truly realized how _alone_ she was.

It was then she made up her mind.

She was going to do _whatever it takes_ for people to like her. No matter how _harsh or hurtful._ She would do it.

And now it's summer.

She did whatever she could.

Throwing up her food to get skinny, exercised everyday _for at least_ 7 hours, buying magazines for clothing and makeup tips, she got a job so she could earn cash for a new wardrobe.

Just so she could fit in.

And somehow, it all paid off. She had beaten the odds.

On the first day of eighth grade the kids she considered _popular_, asked if _she_ wanted to sit with _them._

It was a huge deal. An honor really.

And _of course_ she accepted it. Who wouldn't?

And that's how it began. The tornado of crushes, boyfriends, parties, getting drunk, drugs, rumors, back stabbing, and lies.

_More_ _lies_.

Mommy said lying was bad.

Well mommy wasn't here anymore.

She was _dead._

She died a long time ago. In result, her dad had pushed away from his own family. The kids took care of themselves. It helped she was the youngest, no one to care for. Her brother was going to college soon, so he barely paid attention to her.

She could do whatever she wanted.

She was _free._

But at the same time she _wasn't_.

She was _chained_ to the world of the populars. Going against _everything_ she had knew. Her _morals_. All her parents had taught her. When they _were_ her parents.

So really, it was her parents fault for her turning out the way she was.

But in reality, it was _hers_.

So she started to cut. Burn herself. Fall down the stairs.

_Tortured_ herself as punishment.

_Anything_ to take away the _pain_. To keep out the voices, the voices' saying this was_ all her fault._

And no one knew. No one had found out.

No one had _cared _enough to find out.

So she put on a fake smile for everyone. So no one would see past the wall of lies.

_Lies._

Seems to be all she's been doing these days.

But, truth was, she _wanted_ people to see past the pretty face.

Because _behind the pretty face _was a _broken girl_.

Behind the _lies_, there was _hurt_.

There were _reasons_ for the _crying._

But no one cared.

All she wanted was to _fit in_.

Instead?

She turned into a _Pretty Little Liar_.

"_Never trust a pretty girl._

_They've got something ugly to hide._

_Don't trust a pretty girl_

_Under the eyeliner is something ugly._

_Don't trust a pretty girl_

_All they know how to do is lie_

_Never trust a pretty girl_

_They're all pretty little liars_

_Don't trust a pretty girl_

_They're tongues are full of lies_

_Don't trust a pretty girl_

_They're all Pretty Little Liars"_

Everyone has something ugly to hide

This was hers.

So . . .

She smiled, threw her head back, and laughed.

_All fake. All lies._

Never trust a Pretty girl.

They've got something ugly to hide . . .


End file.
